


The 100 Oneshots

by gyonopnodotaim



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AUs, Bellarke, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, The 100 - Freeform, flashfics, maybesomesmutalongtheway, oneshots, whoknows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:19:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyonopnodotaim/pseuds/gyonopnodotaim
Summary: Just some oneshots, flashshots, and headcanons I write for The 100 when inspiration strikes. Some (a lot) will be AU, and often contradict each other.





	1. Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quickly while I was suppoesed to be working on a paper, basically watching it in my head and narrating what I saw as fast as I could beforehand it was gone. It's not my best, but it works.

"I said no, Clarke!"

Bellamy follows Clarke as she storms into her living quarters, slamming the door behind him. She rips her hair out of its half-ponytail, discarding the band onto the floor.

"I didn't _ask_ you, _Bellamy_."

He stops in his tracks, staring at her in that way that he does. They way that makes us wonder what exactly he's feeling and what thoughts he's leaving unsaid. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they meet hers and his face softens. "I _can't_ let you go, Clarke. I'm not willing to risk it."

She steps closer, visibly confused. "Risk what?"

He smiles his sad Bellamy smile. His eyes read her. Her face, her eyes, her body and its language.

_You. Losing you. The thought of **something** , **anything** happening that might mean you don't come back to me. Just the thought of it drives me crazy. **You** drive me crazy._

But his voice deceives him. "I need you to help me lead."

"That's bullshit and you know it." She walks away and begins removing her armor.

"Clarke-" He reaches out to her, taking a step in her direction.

"Damn it, Bellamy!" She slams a gauntlet onto the table. "Just tell me what's going on!"

Fed up, he bounds across the room, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her close. His lips meet hers almost violently, the two of them crashing together like they have over and over again. They are the dropship, the missile, the ark, and the mountain. They are everything and everything, every second they've been here, every moment they were together and apart. They are stars and galaxies, the Earth and Moon and Sun. They are arrows and bullets and spears and knives. Wanheda and a Princess and janitor and a guard. They are _whatever the hell we want_ and _yu gonplay ste odon_. Together, in that moment. They. Are. Everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Beautiful.

That's the only word he can think of when he looks over at her, sleeping by the firelight.

Beautiful.

Beautiful and peaceful, gentle and kind. Confused mostly, and lost. He knows she never wanted to hurt anybody, that she acts out of necessity and he knew he couldn't let her bear it alone, and that's why he said _together_. He spends this time, the time between her even breaths, the time between her unconscious stirs, the time between Princess and Wanheda, to reminisce. He thinks of the old days, when she hated him and he felt her spark; that spark that drew him to her in his darkest of times, the spark that lit his _flika_ and led the way home. Her spark that grew into this great fire raging within her. He remembers the braid she kept her hair in on the first day, and those precious few times he saw her on the Ark, before they had to survive. He remembers teaching her how to shoot, how he let his fingers linger on her shoulder a fraction of a second longer than he meant to, and a lifetime less than he wanted. He remembers shaking the thought from his head and being so proud of her when she shot the gun and said it felt good. He called her a badass.

He chuckles at the memory, tossing a pebble into the fire.

Everything was so simple then. They had enemies and they had friends and they had allies. They were _I trust you, but I don't like you_. They were _I'm stuck with you, and I need you_. Now they're messy and complicated. They're _hugs_ and _together_ and _we're terrible without each other_ and _our duty is to our people_ but _we're not sure who exactly our people are_. He longs for those simpler times, wishes he could go back and tell his younger self that he's falling in love whether he likes it or not, and that he better act fast because soon _it will be too late_ ; wishes she would fall into that pit again so he could catch her arm and pull her up, but this time hold her to his chest and whisper _Yeah, Princess. I've always got you_.

Because even if she didn't know it and he didn't know it, he always did.


End file.
